


Endgame

by Alethia



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Disappointment, Episode Related, Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So House hit you. Your brilliant solution is to wallow in wine for the night?”</p>
<p>“Was that my brilliant solution? Since you obviously know all, do tell me, what should I be doing?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endgame

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place immediately after 3.09 “Finding Judas.” Written as a gift for natfudge in thanks for all her help. Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/242111.html).

Chase’s mouth caught at hers, turning the kiss into something harsher, full of tongue and teeth. He ignored the sting in his jaw. The pain was welcome in his opinion. It was a focused reminder of exactly why he was here, why Cameron had pushed him against the refrigerator and then into the bedroom, had crawled on top of him, trying to smooth soothing hands down his chest. It was a reminder of why he kept rejecting that comfort.

This was just another lie, anyway.

***

The knock sounded tentative-loud at his door, like the person had to gird himself to do it and the result ended in something far more brash than anticipated.

Cameron, then.

Chase swung the door wide, just watching her blankly as she stood there, watching him. Her gaze traced down to his jaw, eyes widening slightly there—everyone would have heard by now—before snapping back to his eyes. She read something there, she must have judging by her reaction.

Her lips thinned.

She pushed past him, shooting him some kind of look as she walked in, uninvited.

“Do come in,” he said to the forlorn hall, shutting the door on it and turning to watch as her resolve failed her.

Her eyes flicked around the room, wouldn’t settle on him. “I saw you leave.”

“And you decided that poor, puppy Chase needed some cheering up?”

Her silence spoke for her. That sounded like the perfect reason for a drink to him. Chase smiled, a touch bitter, the burn across his jaw a constant reminder that yes, everybody lied.

He moved to the kitchen, aware that she was analyzing his every move, that she still stood in the middle of his apartment, purse clutched in her hand, jacket on, no motion toward even pretending she was welcome.

Chase opened the wine bottle that had been sweating out this little visit on the counter. The dark red filled the glass, a color he would call lovely at any other time. A French Pinot. Should he be drinking an Australian in this situation? He was pretty sure he had one around here somewhere.

“You shouldn’t be drinking that if you’re on pain meds.”

“Who says I’m on pain meds?” Chase asked, swirling the glass, watching the wine coat its side, holding it to the light. It truly was lovely. He took a sip.

The sound of Cameron dropping her purse made him look up. Her jacket followed it down to the floor and Chase had a brief moment to wonder if she was about to give him a show before she advanced on him, hands on hips.

Oh, this would be less fun, then.

“Look, I came here as a friend. I came here to see how you were doing after today. But if you want to sulk because your daddy figure hit you, that’s fine by me.”

Chase set the glass down. And burst out laughing.

***

He rolled her over, hands moving under her shirt, stripping it off her without pretense at doing anything but. Cameron was slowing down, it just hitting her exactly what they were doing.

Chase idly wondered how far she would go.

His fingers traced patterns on her stomach as he nipped at her breastbone, trailing down to the demure little bow of her bra.

Typical.

***

Chase leaned back, heavy against the refrigerator, still breathing hard. God, but she was unintentionally funny.

“Your House impression could use some work,” he said, grinning, still amused when she narrowed her eyes.

“So could your ‘poor me, look how abused I am’ act,” she bit out, coming up to the bar and pinning him with a glare. “So House hit you. Your brilliant solution is to wallow in wine for the night?”

“Was that my brilliant solution? Since you obviously know all, do tell me, what should I be doing?”

She ignored the jab. “He was in pain. He was detoxing. Of course he wasn’t himself. He didn’t mean what he said.”

Chase leaned forward. “He didn’t _say_ anything.”

***

He tossed his own shirt across the room, turning back to Cameron as reality was rapidly making itself known to her.

Unintentionally amusing. In so very many ways.

“We done yet?” he raised an eyebrow as he swirled a finger around her navel, over and over again.

Cameron lifted her chin, dark hair falling away from her face and back onto the duvet. Chase traced a finger across the sharp angle of her jaw.

“Your call,” he said lowly. His finger pressed to her mouth, waiting.

She didn’t say anything.

***

“So he hit you. I’m sure it’s not the first time someone’s finally given in to that urge,” she said.

“Yeah, Chase, stop being such a baby. What’s a little physical violence between employer and employee,” he mocked.

Cameron’s look sharpened. He could practically see her thinking everything through, figuring it all out, a differential diagnosis for an entirely different problem than something as simple as a physical illness.

And all at once Chase was tired. He didn’t want to be the lab rat; he didn’t want to play the game anymore. He was done.

“Go home, Cameron.”

She eyed him steadily, appearing not to have heard anything. “He didn’t say anything.” She repeated his words as if they finally had some meaning.

Chase didn’t look away.

***

They kissed again, a rough crush of mouths that spoke little of tenderness and regard, but instead of heat and need.

Not that Chase was under any kind of delusion that Cameron needed any of this, but want was close enough, anyway.

She broke away and started working at his belt of her own volition. Chase needed no other prompting to slide his fingers beneath her trousers, unhooking and parting them to find yet another innocent little bow gracing her panties.

“Why do you buy lingerie this disturbingly innocent, anyway?” he asked. Her eyes flashed and then her hand was down his pants and he couldn’t care enough to wonder that she’d never answered his question.

***

“What, you were expecting a round of applause? This is House we’re talking about.”

Chase shook his head. “I was right. House was wrong and I was right and I got knocked on my ass for it.”

“He’s out of his mind, Chase. He’s not thinking straight. He’s barely thinking at all beyond where his next hit will come from. You can’t expect him to—”

“To what? Practice what he preaches?”

“To use a phrase he’d mock, sure. You’re upset because you didn’t get a pat on the head?”

***

A mad, heated scramble later he again found himself in the enviable position of being inside Allison Cameron.

She clutched at his shoulders, legs cradling his hips, urging him on, but the memory of an insult stayed his assent. Chase slanted his mouth over hers, thrusting smoothly inside, taking all the time in the world and getting a little mewl into his mouth for the effort.

She gasped when he did it again, her head thrown back at the torturously good slick slide in. Chase nipped down her neck, keeping the same pace, even as his hand teased her between them.

“What do you want, an apology?” she groaned, thighs reflexively clutching him again when he pressed just so.

“Do you mean this isn’t one?”

***

Chase laughed, tipping his head back against the refrigerator again. “When that’s all we’re ever gonna get from him? Of course I want that recognition. You would, too. But in the end even House can’t live up to House’s standards. So why bother anymore?”

“House has always been like this. You should know that.” She kept pleading wither eyes, apparently not realizing this was beyond her ability to fix.

Not that that would stop Cameron, of course.

“No, only when we’re wrong. When we’re wrong it’s one thing to mock our diagnoses and us, personally. When we’re right we deserve more.”

She shook her head, the overheads picking up the red highlights mixed in with the brown. “House would say knowing you’re right should be enough.”

“Only if you’re House. And as we’ve already established, I am not.”

***

Chase would fully admit that it was basely satisfying to have Cameron gasping and shaking, sweaty and sated in his arms. It soothed something she’d tried to take away from him some time ago. More, it made a point without a word needing to be spoken between them.

He smoothed sticky tendrils of hair away from her face, leaning down to press one final kiss to her lips. Her hands came up to touch his jaw, only brushing feather-light over the tender spot there. He could feel them shaking.

Pulling out and away introduced a cold chasm between them. Chase disposed of the condom and tugged at the covers. Cameron watched, like if she used the sad puppy face for long enough something would change.

He invited her to stay with a tilt of his head and she nodded. He knew she would, if only because of the goose bumps raised along her skin in the cold night air. He hadn’t turned on the heat when he’d gotten home, it occurred to him.

Safely ensconced under the duvet, Chase could feel her watching him again. He turned his head, regarding her curiously, wondering what more could possibly be said.

“Aren’t you going to say it can’t happen again?” she asked, voice low and scratchy with what they’d been doing.

“No. It can happen as much as you like. Because I am done with him and we won’t be coworkers for very much longer.” 

***

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re going to go in tomorrow and he’ll have gotten his fix and it’ll be the same as it always is.” She sounded so resigned to it that for a moment Chase wondered if even _she_ was tired of being a pawn on a chessboard, endlessly moved when nothing really ever changed.

But it was a brief wonder because it was Cameron and it wasn’t like she’d do anything about it, not if it were just for herself.

“It does matter. It should matter.” Chase looked down at his hands, frowning at the thought that his mind circled back to again and again. “A real teacher would grant us the ability to earn his respect. House will not. So I am done with him.”

A swift intake of breath told him that he’d finally impressed upon her his seriousness. Good. It was about time she joined the conversation.

“What do you mean?”

He looked up and met her eyes steadily, answering without answering. Cameron blinked and then moved around the bar, fully facing him now.

“You can’t—”

“Can’t I?”

She shook her head, refusing him. “I won’t let you make that mistake.”

Chase grinned. “What are you gonna do about it?”

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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